Days Now Passed
by gryffinclaw-witch
Summary: Remus hadn't seen her since the day she got married, regrettably, not to him. Now she's got a house and a son and a whole life beyond the adolescent days she spent with him. (Slight AU. One-shot.)


_**Author's Note:**_ I don't very much ship Remus and Lily, but for a long time this fanfiction was an idea in my head that I couldn't get out. So, here you go.

This fanfiction is rated T for minor, vague mentions of sex.

* * *

To Remus, it felt mostly like something out of a film directed towards a teenaged audience.

And, even worse, he'd assumed those dramatic days were finished. Over, done with. But now Lily's features were forming firmly in the back of his mind, moving towards the front, because James was asking permission to marry her.

"I'm getting married" was, in fact, what James had said, and it was sufficiently specific.

First, he and Lily had dated very early in their sixth year of Hogwarts, but four months later, in the winter, they broke up.

Subsequently, Lily began dating Remus, but not out of spite for James—he'd had a crush on her for a longer while than James probably sensed, but refrained from telling her out of shyness and because she was James's girlfriend, and he especially avoided telling her in the weeks after she broke up with James. She and Remus were a pair for only one month-and-a-half, causing James resentment towards both, mostly Remus, but in civility and passive-aggression more so than in hostility.

Remus remembered the evening that Lily severed him off, and the days right before and after, but not very well her exact words or facial expressions while she told him so. It was the end of March and plants were full and blooming, and after supper Lily had invited him on a walk around the lake. Remus, in his agreement, hadn't vaguely suspected her intentions, but when she expressed them, she and he made the decision to separate a mutual one—although, admittedly, mostly on Lily's behalf.

And it was because, as Remus learned a short while later, James and Lily had organised a sort of study session outdoors, beneath their favourite and most-often-visited tree. And it was there that James asked her out again, and she agreed.

What's more, far more, they continued to date, formally breaking up only once more (and almost breaking up another time) until now, less than a year after they and Remus and Sirius and Pettigrew and Snivellus graduated from Hogwarts.

Remus's face felt hot, the way it did before he transformed after the occasions when he forgot to consume Wolfsbane Potion promptly enough; but, it was broadly daytime, and not yet the correct moon phase. To stop the dizzy feeling overtaking him, Remus forced himself to maintain constant eye contact with James, who was looking back with some degree of concern, because Remus probably appeared disoriented at the moment.

"Are you okay?" he thought James might have asked.

Remus ignored it. "Good for you," he said earnestly, wanting to hold James's shoulder for stability, but not wanting more to attract worry.

He truly was happy that James was getting married. He was good person who deserved to be in love.

"Thanks," was the reply. "Well, I actually wanted to ask you something."

At once, Remus's first assumption was that James would ask if he was comfortable with his bride being Lily. It was hard to think of potential appropriate responses, but Remus didn't know how to stall the conversation for too long, so he said before he lose the audacity he had, "What's that?"

"I'd like to invite you to be my best man."

A part of Remus's head cleared and he was now capable of seeing James's expression a little better: composed, considerate, somewhat anticipatory. He was too hopeful, and Remus wanted less than nearly anything to let James down, but it would be too difficult for him to spend so much time in such close connection with Lily during her preparation to marry another person.

Remus opted for an uncertain answer, as opposed to a direct decline, but kept it less-than-fully expressed. "I can't say if my schedule will clear up in time, James," he mentioned passively, "especially several months in advance."

"All right;" but James's slow nod said everything he didn't about his dejection.

"You—you should go to Sirius," Remus suggested immediately. "I know he would be eager to do it."

James grinned. "I intended to, if you said no, or if you said yes but were unable to perform the day of." His glasses looked more worn and his face more weary as he lowered his chin and said, "Thank you, anyway."

"No, really, thanks for the offer." Remus suddenly felt ungrateful and almost wanted to take back his decision, but thought it would make it worse. "Thank you, James."

"I'd still like you to come, if your schedule allows. Maybe as an usher or something, or a regular guest if you'd prefer."

Remus was willing to do that much, at least. Even if his former girlfriend was marrying his best friend, it was still his best friend, and being present at his best friend's wedding was essential, he thought. "Yes, please," he agreed wholeheartedly.

* * *

The role was later taken by Sirius. Remus looked on to where to he was seated, nearby, speaking rather animatedly to the young man beside him at their table, occasionally raising his voice in pure enthusiasm, probably engrossed in a story that maybe the man wasn't vastly interested in. Regardless, Sirius was happy, and that made Remus feel appreciative.

He also appreciated that, since he decided not to be the best man, Sirius had been the next candidate. Both Sirius and James were glad to have his participation. During the wedding earlier, Remus had felt inklings of regret and sadness, but not ever anger. Sirius had stood quietly behind James, his hands clasped in front of his waist, watching with joy while the couple made their commitments.

Remus had done so already that morning and several times during the planning process of the wedding, but now he wanted to tell both James and Lily how happy he was for them; because he honestly was, and the more times he expressed it, the more deeply he would believe it. Remus skimmed the large room and located them somewhat far away. It was late enough in the reception that James and Lily weren't strongly surrounded by their guests, but they were nowhere near alone, either.

He made his way over and had at last decided upon the perfect clever greeting when James caught sight of him, and hugged his shoulders without allowing Remus to begin the exchange.

"Remus," chuckled James, in an attitude that was uncharacteristically light-hearted, and for almost the whole subsequent minute Remus wondered if James was slightly intoxicated. Lily, overhearing her new husband's words, turned halfway from her conversation with a slender, dark-headed, slouching young lady who resembled her in no way—but, while dating Lily, Remus had been told (most often in the form of complaints) about this woman, her sister.

He gave Lily a hug too, when she opened her arms for it. As they separated, Remus heard her say, only half into his ear, "Thank you for all your help."

"No problem," he told her graciously, and looked to James, trying his hardest to make himself feel _completely_ pleased for them. This was a fun day and he cared about them and James justifiably deserved this. Perhaps it was his missing a younger Lily—or maybe his missing their near-future versions, moving house away from him—but Remus felt something that he couldn't distinguish was nostalgia over losing her, or sorrow or losing them to adulthood.

At that point, Patricia, or Pamela, whichever she called herself—the sister rested a long palm on Lily's pale arm. Lily didn't remove her eyes from the spot where their skin was making contact, and Remus wondered if she was offended by the touch; he knew bits and pieces of the girls' complicated childhood relationship, after all. The sister spoke quietly right next to Lily's face, slouching even more to compensate for her own tallness.

They both looked over at Remus, Lily less sternly, but Remus wasn't sure whether that was because they were discussing him or whether they had noticed him watching them. He hadn't precisely been intrigued by them, really; it was more like their stealthy conversation had caught his attention, and now he cared to a lesser extent but hadn't bothered to remove his gaze.

Then Lily had turned away, and was speaking with a speed and volume that made it difficult to hear until the end, which Remus noticed: "Petunia, you should go," she was in the midst of muttering.

Petunia: That was it.

And Petunia, Remus noticed then, had the most awful assortment of facial expressions. The one she selected now, for instance, was taut and strained. She was probably only about thirty years old, but that hideous face made her age in a second.

"No, I shouldn't," she insisted, her eyes hardly leaving some fixed place beyond her.

Both Remus and Lily (while James was greeting a woman who must have been an older relative) had noticed Petunia, but she never spoke aloud to him, only communicating by means of a series of glares and stares that were like an extinct language to Remus. He didn't leave the area that soon, but realised only later, after hours passed him by, that Petunia was so unpleasant towards him as some form of revenge for severing from Lily—although, had that relationship lasted to a marriage, he doubted that Petunia would have accepted him even in the begrudging way she had James.

* * *

It wasn't until two years—approximately—after that Remus was invited to the Potter residence for a visit. In the recent past, something had been attempted, but no such reunion could be organised because of James's dedication to his work and Lily's dedication to their new-born son. A couple of times, on days when he had no other obligations, Remus was elected for childminding duties—and it was nice, to be able to acquaint himself with Harry, but James and Lily were always out of the house at times like those, and Remus only got to speak with them right around it; typically the exchange was this:

"Let us pay you something," Lily would say, taking Harry from Remus's arms, and intermittently coddling him while awaiting Remus's response.

And he would promise with a half-genuine grin, "No. I'm glad I could help, though."

"Well, we're glad for your help too," Lily would assure him, lightly bouncing Harry in her hold, "but are you sure you wouldn't like payment? At least a tenner."

"It was only two hours," Remus would insist, in a sort of I-wouldn't-want-to-inconvenience-you manner.

Meanwhile, when Remus wasn't looking, James would be trying to tuck a quid or two in his shirt pocket.

Remus got to the Potter residence first. He hadn't even known Sirius was planning to attend, anyway, until he showed a while later—and it was a pleasant thing, because he and Sirius hadn't seen one another since very shortly after the wedding. Now both of them, able to visit with James and Lily, was sure joyful day.

When there was a knock sounding on the door, and James went to open it, Sirius had shuffled past him and gone right for Harry, who hardly looked up in time before this unfamiliar and gawky man gave him a hug and buried his face in the front of an oversized khaki coat.

Remus, who had been seated at ease on a cushion of the sofa, slowly rose up at Sirius's entrance . . . but after a number of seconds it became more obvious that, for the next while, Sirius would be far more fascinated by the smallest person in the room.

"He's so handsome—" said Sirius to Harry (who definitely didn't understand any of the words) in a pitch of voice that Remus had never, ever heard come out of Sirius's throat. "Excellent work, James. You gave a lot of effort on this one, I see."

"Easy speak, Sirius, there's a kid in the room," Remus said. He walked a little gingerly in Sirius's direction but his shoulder was met with a very enthusiastic squeeze by Sirius's hand. "How old's he, now?" Remus asked James.

James raised his eyebrows at the man beside Remus. "Sirius? Well, I'd imagine he's not much older than you, Moony."

James had almost broken into laughter too soon, before Remus clarified, "No! The—the little human being. That's what I meant."

"Two months," Lily answered with a nice grin, because James and now Sirius were overly incapacitated to respond right away.

For most of the visit everyone stayed in the sitting room, the conversation drifting between Harry and how is your career going James, from that to Harry, to your house is nice back to Harry, to do you like the neighbourhood, to Harry.

"I'm going to arrange some food," Lily announced at one point, likely when she had grown tired of talking about her son, and left to go to the kitchen. Remus got up and followed her in to assist her, leaving James and Sirius and Harry in the sitting room to socialise.

Upon entrance into the kitchen, Lily went immediately to the cupboards against the farther wall. Remus scanned the room; it was white and mostly spacious except for around the cupboards and cooker, cluttered by several cookware and utensils. The circular table, to his left side, was covered in a light-coloured cloth that had visible food stains blotted near the high chair that Harry probably used. Harry . . .

"Congratulations, again," Remus said to Lily, and she curiously glanced back at him, "on your marriage and Harry."

"Thank you," she told him, and beamed in a kind of grateful way that Remus hadn't seen in its entirety for years.

Lily had gone back to shuffling in one of the lower cupboards. Remus thought he overheard her say something to him.

"Sorry, what?" he asked.

"Oh," murmured Lily. "I'm sorry," she echoed. "I wasn't talking to you, just to—"

He felt almost disappointed, just by the tone in her voice. "To yourself, I suppose?"

"Yeah."

For a minute, he stopped to watch her. "Would you like any help?" offered Remus.

"No. Thank you," Lily said very soon after, like she wasn't ready to listen.

The worktop was cold beneath his hand. Remus waited patiently but nervously for a calm, near-silent point in the conversation to arise. It came when Lily was hardly busying herself with whatever she was searching for. Remus asked, "You wouldn't happen to recall sixth year for us?"

Lily gravitated to the fridge. She said gently, pretending not to have paused, "I would. Why do you bring it up?"

Remus shook his head, leaning his back and bum against the worktop behind him, his eyes downcast to the floor tiles. "I was only thinking of it . . . simply."

Lily sighed with a slight smile, maybe not completely authentic, even though he knew she was the most genuine person he'd met. "Remus," she started, "you know that was a wonderful time. _I_ know that."

She was returning to the worktop with some fruit when he smiled back. "You're still a great woman, Lily. You're selfless and smart and . . . uncommonly kind." For a second, his heart both ached with memory and jumped with some kind of thrill. "I admire you, still."

Lily blinked. Her voice was soft: "Thank you."

Straightening, Remus grinned a little more, and took three slow steps until he was standing closer to Lily and looking down at her. She was nearly as tall as he now, despite there having been quite a height difference back in sixth year, when she was shorter; though, he might have shrunken a few centimetres himself since then. "I'm proud of you, Lily. I'm proud of you for having become the lady you are, and I'm proud of James for . . ." Remus trailed off, looking over her shoulder for a moment. He then smirked before making eye contact again. "I'm proud of James for becoming enough of a gentleman to regain your attention."

Fleetingly confused, the light in Lily's eyes almost went dim. "Regain? Oh. Right." She frowned; not exactly the grimace that he was used to seeing, but when she spoke again her voice was low. "Remus, I continue to admire you in the way you do me. But I'm married now, and I can't hold romantic feelings for you. You are selfless, and polite, and very smart, but I don't see you in the way I once did. I'm sorry."

Her saying so wasn't quite harsh—or, not as much as it could have been, if Lily didn't care about Remus's emotions the way she did—but it was certain, and final. He couldn't easily look her in the eyes right now but, with his head bowed a little bit, he was able to note her body language: the way she was stiffly poised, when she typically instead kept her shoulders thrust forward; the way she held her legs quite closely to one another, and her arms close to her ribs.

But he had to agree; he said that he reciprocated her perspective, and he wanted to say he understood but deemed it an unnecessary thing. Against that, if he were to speak those words, they might be trembling with the rejection he was facing.

"It broke my heart to break your heart," Lily said, "if that makes you feel better."

"Thanks," responded Remus.

"I can only apologise, you know?"

He was grateful for that anyway. "Yeah, I know."

"Okay."

It was a little while before either of them spoke—Lily was occupied with cutting fruit, and Remus was trying not to watch her directly. But Remus felt it would be better to say so than to not: "I meant nothing, honestly."

He was met by a sideways stare that showed some emotion halfway between respect (a willingness to listen to him), and exasperation, which he felt was probably more justified, because he simply couldn't stop himself from talking about the things he should have stopped talking about long ago.

"What I mean is, I'm not trying to sabotage anything that you and James have now, by bringing up the things you and I had then. I hope it didn't come across like that and I'm sorry if it did because I didn't mean for it to. I don't want you to take away from that the wrong message."

She said, "Okay."

Remus was more confused than he'd have liked to be, but he didn't want to ask because he thought that it might wind Lily up that he hadn't followed her mind-set all the way through.

"Is that all right?" he asked, hoping for full fairness.

She set something on the worktop, from the cupboard she'd last been rummaging in. A bowl, big and white, which she used to contain the chunks of fruit she'd just chopped.

"It's fine, Remus, really. Now, I'll be out in a moment, please." With that and nothing else, she gestured graciously for him to carry the bowl into the sitting room.

Remus obliged and held the bowl with two hands, hoping not to spill its contents even though he was hardly clumsy. Behind him, back in the kitchen, he heard the light and soft slam of a wooden cupboard door closing.

When he returned to the sitting room, James was leaning against the side of the sofa, sparing a glance up to Remus, but then he looked on to Harry, whose gaze inquisitively followed the bowl—without any break—from the time it came into sight until it was sat upon the table. Sirius, who was squatted on the floor near Harry, hadn't watched Remus approach but probably knew anyway that he had entered.

"How in the Wizarding World did he get eyes like that?" Remus asked, referring to Harry's persistent, wide-eyed, vividly-coloured stare.

Remus crouched on the carpet beside Sirius. Harry quickly took an interest to his shoes, expressing so by prodding the top and sides with his inch-long fingers; for intrigue, Remus wiggled his toes, and immediately Harry showed clear curiosity as to what those little bulging objects towards the front of each shoe could be.

While Remus's feet were being toyed with, Sirius looked at Harry's father. "Well, they aren't James's," he mentioned, kind of quietly, but smiling. Feeling somewhat neglected, Sirius reached forward to tickle up and down Harry's spine and sides, and soon Harry had abandoned Remus and instead aimed his attention to Sirius once more.

"Not remotely," noted Remus in agreement, but he could recognise, on any day with effortless ease, whose they were.


End file.
